The Christmas Compromise Page 12

  Mine. All mine. Finally.

  The back half, my half, had neutral walls and hardwood floors, modern mirrors and chairs, and a small even more private section that had a tiny room filled with a massage table and some potted plants, a shelf of facial cleansers and waxes and other skin care things.

  The divider that Dallas had built doubled as shelves on the backside and I’d spent a few happy hours arranging all of the products that I was hoping to sell to my clients.

  Dallas threaded more tinsel across the branches of our second tree. “You’re smiling.”

  “I am.” I settled a drift of trim onto a high branch and said, “I can’t seem to stop.”

  He gave me a look, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “Last I heard being happy wasn’t a bad thing.”

  My smile immediately faded. “What if my mom hates the place? What if she thinks I should’ve decorated with vibrant colors instead of neutral colors? I feel like everything is on the line for me to prove to my parents that I can be a success. If I fail, then that will show that they were right and I should’ve just gone to work for them at the bank.”

  “Where is that smile I saw a minute ago?” Dallas reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze, and swinging our hands back and forth in that way of his that I found so soothing. “Opening your own business is supposed to be fun. It’s not about proving anything to your parents. Don’t second-guess how you decorated. You should trust yourself one hundred percent. This is your dream and that’s an awesome thing.”

  “You’re right,” I said, but my happiness was still tainted by the worry that my parents wouldn’t approve. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time, but old habits died hard. I picked up a string of lights he’d set on the table and smiled at them. They blinked off and on, their bright colors shimmering. No plain white lights for us. “Where should we hang these now that we’ve finally gotten the other tree situated where we like?” I asked.

  “I thought we could hang them along the ceiling.” He raised his brows, but didn’t move until I nodded. “Let me grab the ladder. Turn the strands off, will you? I don’t want to get electrocuted.”

  “Sure,” I said, turning them off. I held the string of lights for him as he hung them carefully, laying them across the ceiling and using double-sided tape to hold the strands in place.

  He jumped off the ladder and smiled at me. “Close your eyes.”

  I didn’t even ask why. I squeezed my eyes shut and stood there with my heart pounding and my ears straining for every sound, so I could figure out what he was doing. Footsteps. A click. And then footsteps again.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, from beside me.

  I opened them and gasped as I tipped my head back so I could check out our handiwork. The room was dark, the regular overheads cut off and the Christmas lights sparkled and danced like brilliant stars against the ceiling.

  I cried out, “It’s beautiful.”

  “Very beautiful,” he said in a husky voice. But he was looking at me and not the lights. My belly did a little flip. “Wait,” he said, holding up his index finger.

  “Wait? For what?” I asked, but he’d already turned away and sauntered over to the music system we’d installed.

  He fiddled with the remote and then soft music filled the room. Suddenly Martina McBride’s voice came through the speakers singing “White Christmas.” My smile grew wider and my heartbeat raced as he came toward me, a strong figure even in the dim light.

  “I love this song,” I admitted, shyly. “If only we really would have a white Christmas this year. I’d love that so much, but it would take a miracle for the temperature to drop in time.”

  “You never know,” he said, holding his hand out. “May I have this dance?”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  He pulled me into his embrace. I felt the strength of his firm body against mine as he led me across the wooden floor with one hand on the small of my back and the other holding my hand. Together, we moved in a slow and revolving circle under the lights.

  Suddenly feeling shy, I lifted my lashes. “This reminds me of prom.”

  “I would’ve liked to have taken you to prom.”

  My belly fluttered. “I wish you had.”

  “Me, too.” He pulled me closer still, so close that I could feel the beat of his heart and see the steady pulse at the hollow of his throat. “You went with Tom your senior year. You wore a long white dress that had a princess skirt thing.”

  I burst into laughter at the apt description and he twirled me expertly. “I’ll never live that down.” I groaned. “I was the Prom Bride, that’s what Ruby called me. In my defense, my mom picked out that dress. She said the dress I wanted was too short and too tight.”

  He shifted and stepped and I followed, every point of contact between us feeding the emotions welling up between us. Butterflies danced in my belly. My skin tingled and my body sagged against his to get even closer to him.

  “You looked beautiful.” He smiled and then winked at me. “Even when your dress knocked over that appetizer table.”

  We both laughed at the same time.

  I leaned in and let him guide me. “You remember that?”

  His chest vibrated beneath my cheek. “It’s hard to forget.”

  I grimaced but laughed at the same time. “I think the contents of that punchbowl were still stuck in the underskirt when I got home.”

  Our laughter drifted along, following the strains of another Christmas song. Dancing with Dallas felt pure and sweet and real. I never wanted it to end. I let out a heavenly sigh before lifting my face to his. He gazed into my eyes. Then his mouth came down on mine.

  The hushed music, the lights in the darkness, the feel of his mouth and his body, the touch of his hand—steady and sure—all combined with his woodsy scent made my knees weak. My emotions spun under the sweet power of that kiss. Every breath, every second, melded into a flawless moment, which made me forget everything but us.

  We finally pulled back. He looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes. The music shifted again, this time to “Silent Night,” which was my very favorite Christmas song. We kept dancing, swaying back and forth, letting our bodies touch while the music spilled over us in soft waves.

  “I wish I’d been good enough for you back then. If I had been then maybe you would never have gone to prom with that toad.”

  I laced my fingers through his. “If we could go back in time, I’d do things differently. Or maybe that’s where we are now?” I suggested.

  “I like where we are now,” he whispered, the corners of his mouth lifting as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “How was dinner at the club?”

  “I wish you’d been there. It would’ve been nice to have an ally. Although maybe that wouldn’t have worked out so well,” I said, looking down at my feet.

  He lifted my chin. “Why not?”

  I sighed, having trouble meeting his eyes. “My mom.”

  His fingers spread against my back. “She doesn’t approve of me.”

  “Pretty much,” I said, resting my head against his chest again. The song kept going, but he paused, holding me close under the canopy of happy and beautiful lights. “I don’t know what to do about her, Dallas.”

  “Morgan—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, so please don’t.” I shook my head, because I didn’t want him to tell me again that the accident wasn’t my fault. Because I knew it wasn’t true.

  “Morgan, I need to tell you something.”

  I whispered, “What is it?”

  “I need to answer your question from before.” His voice was low and tight, the strain perfectly audible. Suddenly, my stomach bubbled with worry. Was he about to tell me he’d run into Nina again? That he’d never gotten over her? Or that he’d met someone else.

  I braced myself. “Just say it.”

  He dropped his forehead to mine. “You’re the reason I never fell in love with anyone.”

  My vision blurred.
“Me?”

  “Nobody I dated could hold the slightest candle to you.” He cupped my face in his hands and held me there, his voice shaky. “I left here because I wasn’t good enough for you. I was bitter and troubled. I knew I had to become someone worthy of you.”

  His words made my heart feel two seconds away from exploding.

  “Oh, Dallas . . .” I lifted onto my tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his.

  I wanted to tell him that I loved him and that I’d always loved him. I wanted to tell him so much that it hurt. But I might have to choose between my family and him, so that kept me silent. It hit me like a ton of bricks that was exactly what was coming. But what could I do?

  Like a million times in my life, I wished that Grace were here. Not because her presence would change anything between my mom and me, but because I longed for my big sister. As a little girl, whenever I was sad she would hug me and assure me everything was going to be all right. But as much as I needed her, she was still gone. So I just kissed Dallas with all of the love in me, hoping I’d never have to break his heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Monday evening, the eighteenth of December, I flipped the sign hanging on the front door—of the C.M. Salon slash Parker’s Furniture—from open to closed. Our first day had been a roaring success. Just as I opened my mouth to say so to Dallas, he went to our sound system and blasted “Jingle Bell Rock” over the speakers.

  I turned to praise his song choice, but he disappeared around the corner. I blinked, wondering where he’d gone. Before I could call his name, there was a knock on the front door. I swiveled, glancing at the front door to find Ruby’s nose pressed against the window.

  She pointed to the locked doorknob. I grinned and pointed to the closed sign. She held up a box with the logo of Jingle Bells Bakery on the sides and then flipped the lid open to reveal gloriously browned and iced cinnamon rolls nestled inside the box.

  I unlocked the door and opened it. “Well played.”

  “Nobody can resist Jingle Bells Bakery’s cinnamon rolls.” Ruby swooped in, wearing a thick camel coat over a long-sleeved sweater, a tartan skirt over black leggings, and bright red suede boots with a thick treaded sole. She started dancing to the loud music, snapping her fingers as she bounced. “Congratulations on your first day!” she said.

  “Thank you!” I locked the front door again and then took a deep and appreciative sniff of cinnamon, pastry, vanilla, and butter. “How did you get them this time of day and hot ones to boot? I assumed she closed early on weekdays.”

  “I have connections.” Ruby curtsied, bowing her head. “I groom her Schnauzer, who’s a complete diva. Not to mention she bites. A lot.”

  I inhaled the aromas coming out of the box again. “That’s the real difference between doing hair on a dog versus hair on a human. Most humans don’t bite.”

  Ruby’s eyes glowed with laughter. “Only most? Not all?”

  I winced. “There’s a little boy in town whose objections to having his hair cut went from screaming to biting today.”

  Ruby exhaled a long breath. “Ouch. How’d you handle that one?”

  “I solved the problem,” I said, tapping my temple. “Turned out he was scared that the scissors might cut his ears. So, I made him ear protectors out of foam rollers. After that he was golden.”

  Ruby patted my arm. “You’re going to be a great mom one day.”

  “Mom? Me?” My mind drifted back to that imaginary scene with Dallas and kids on Christmas Eve. My throat closed. I did want a family. A lot. I hadn’t known how much until I’d come home and fallen in love. Kids had never been on my radar before.

  A hard rap-rap-rap on the door sounded out, shattering my thoughts.

  “What’s Connor doing here?” I asked, unlocking the front door and turning the knob for the second time that evening.

  Connor came in on a gust of cold wind. His scarf was knotted casually around his neck, his cheeks were red from the cold, and he was bearing a large bouquet of mixed flowers.

  “Are those for me?” I asked, squealing.

  “Nah.” Connor shook his head. His coat wore a dusting of the fake snow people were spraying in their shop windows. “They’re for Dallas. Think he’ll like them?”

  I burst into laughter. “Give me those.”

  “Congrats, sis.” Connor shoved the flowers at me.

  I turned toward the divider as Dallas came strolling out from the back with a giant smile on his face and a bottle of champagne in his hand. He stopped in his tracks, sniffing the air. “Something smells good. Is that cinnamon rolls?”

  I nodded. “Jingle Bells Bakery no less. Ruby brought them. And you must have a nose like a greyhound. Let me grab a vase for these. Do you mind if I put them on that table by the tree?”

  He lowered the bottle to the tabletop I’d asked about. “Not at all.” Dallas gave Ruby a warm hug. Then he and Connor exchanged one of those awkward one-armed hugs guys give each other. “Good to see you, man. Let me get more glasses.”

  Dallas went in the back to get glasses while Ruby and Connor sat down. Ruby fussed around with napkins and a few plastic utensils, while I arranged the flowers in a pretty glass. Dallas came back and popped the cork on the bottle. The champagne flowed out and he gave a cheerful hoot as he filled the glasses and then took a seat beside me on the sofa.

  “You two are the talk of the town,” Ruby said. “I heard Addie Wilcox say her husband has to get a pedicure at the C.M. Salon. Her exact words were that he has the worst toenails ever and if she can get him in the door to look at a piece of furniture it’s only a small step further to the pedicure chair.”

  Our laughter rang out, all four of us at the same time.

  Dallas chortled. “I can’t imagine a guy getting a pedicure.”

  Connor hit him in the arm “I get one, several times a year in fact.”

  Dallas’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

  I cut in. “Nope. Lots of men get pedicures. It’s good for your feet.”

  Dallas’s eyebrows lifted. His gaze moved down to his shoes as if he couldn’t imagine it. “For real?”

  I smiled sweetly. “And you could use a manicure as well.”

  His lips twisted. “Are you offering to give me one?”

  I studied his face. “Are you willing to let me give you a manicure?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll let you stick with your regular clientele. Although I like the part where you’d be holding my hand.”

  Connor glanced from Dallas to me after that comment and then his facial expression changed as if in recognition that Dallas and I were more than just friendly business neighbors. If he had a problem with that, it didn’t show.

  “Your loss.” I smiled at Dallas, thinking we’d find another way for me to hold his hand. I took a bite of my cinnamon roll and moaned with delight. The sweet and sticky confection clung to my tongue and throat, imparting another layer of sweetness to the day. It had been a good day, and a profitable one as well. Happiness sizzled into my being at the thought of the income earned and how much that would offset what I’d spent to get the salon up and running.

  Ruby popped a piece of roll in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I heard that the ladies who run the Christmas Mountain bus tours are planning on putting your beauty salon slash furniture store on their tour. Tourism is down, as you know, but your place is such a novelty. They get tourists who get tired and cranky from being on a bus all day and they claim to want to buy stuff that isn’t the usual souvenir type so you might get some new business that way.”

  I let the champagne settle on my tongue and the delicious bubbly fizzed and popped, before I swallowed it down. “That’s wonderful news, Ruby. I’ll have to remember to go by their booth and thank them for thinking of us. I’ll offer them a discount on some services for putting us on their route.”

  Connor clapped his hands. “There’s your business degree kicking in, sis.”

  “Very funny.” I lifted an eyebrow at him. �
�I was just genuinely being nice. How are things at the bank? Besides the new car.”

  “Can’t complain,” he said, licking crumbs off his lips before dabbing them with a napkin for good measure. “Hey, Dallas. How were furniture sales today?”

  Dallas set his glass on the table. His face radiated pride. “Great. I sold an entire living room set and a kitchen table, plus a few cabinets. It was a good opening day.”

  “Congratulations, Dallas.” Ruby lifted her champagne glass in his direction, before turning to me. “I heard you were booked solid today, Morgan.”

  I swallowed another bite of warm and gooey roll. “Yes! Probably because the location’s so convenient.”

  “I don’t buy that.” Ruby leaned forward and her free hand touched my leg. “Location helps, but you’re uber-good at what you do. Everyone knows it.”

  My mood immediately flat-lined. “Not everyone thinks that, actually.

  Other than re-decorating the tree—which I hadn’t asked her to do—my mom hadn’t done one single thing to help or support me. Even my dad had loosened up enough to stop in and give me a hug and well wishes during the lunch hour, but Mom? Nope.

  Ivy Reed had a backbone made of steel and no way was she about to snap herself in half to admit she might be wrong about anything, much less about my being a terrific beautician.

  “Don’t let Mom’s issues spoil your opening day,” Connor said.

  “Why can’t she support me, though? I mean, Emma Winters—from my choir team—called today and made an appointment for January. And Joy Evans from the choir team came by the salon today to support me and I hadn’t talked to her in years.”

  “Joy?” Ruby asked. “I didn’t know she’s back in town. That’s so sweet of her to drop by on your special day.”

  “Right?” I smiled. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Joy was always around when we needed her, quietly lending an ear. Never judging. We’d hugged and picked things up where we left off like no time had passed. “She even made an upcoming hair appointment for both her and Carol Bennett for this Thursday. They want their hair to look fabulous for the Christmas extravaganza.”